


impetus

by virtaux



Series: interconnected (of champions and pretty words) [1]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 14:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3654582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtaux/pseuds/virtaux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>advance: to move or go forward; proceed.</p><p>she struggles to escape a recent battle; he relieves her of her routine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	impetus

There is hardly time to reconcile. There is only time to move forward, to bypass defeat, to maintain peace of mind. A ragged cloth rubs idly at blood caked onto the blades from intruder after intruder. It is methodical, calming – she is the calm after the storm, even if she appears disheveled. With the smear of crimson, she nurses her bottom lip in continuation. The scar is healing slowly; the cut isn’t deep and there’s no need to fret. It’s covered half the time anyway, but she has to wash her clothes to free them of their fresh bloodstains.

The temple resonates with the movement of water. It pours over the cragged rock, escalates below and while she is alone, she dips her head as if she is anointing herself. Free from sin – purged from wrongdoing. A hand slicks back darkened strands while the other scrubs her visage clean of the impurities. A mirror plastered into the rock behind allows for review, and once she is satisfied, she exits the small spring and swathes herself in a plush towel.

Akali’s mind is stalled with images of the battle – several of the intruders with messages attached to blades in the form of sinister glints and lethal intentions. Dispatched and disregarded, she is concerned with the opposite. She was not what they were after; it’s Shen she’s concerned for. He has not spoken to her in two days; she’s maintained the wellbeing of the temple in tandem with his absence, but he’s always there in the blink of an eye if things had gone awry.

When she swivels and steps back into the room, the voice that echoes does not surprise her – it soothes her, and suddenly her mind is jarred, drawn from its lengthy pause.  
“Another attempt?” Words are muffled behind a mask, arms folded authoritatively – suppressing concern.

“Another failure.” A soft tone reconciles. Her hands reach upward, and draw her hair back up into the traditional ponytail. Damp strands frame her face, but her gaze does not meet his. 

Shen plays on the silence. There has been an extended period of peace – one that has lasted too long. The schism allows Akali to step past him, preparing her garb. He stops her halfway, a hand placing upon her shoulder. Her eyes are steeled; her body is stiff. 

“Rest. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Shen—“

“Thank you.”

His grip is not vice; it is gentle. She only glances up when his eyes are grazing over her again and again through the mask. It is piercing, yet calming – reassuring. A dip of her head, and she presses the folded cloth into his arms before passing by and retiring to her own room. Images rewind and replay as she sinks into meditation, eyelids heavy. The smell of jasmine swirls around her, incense beginning to burn. Akali tastes the smoke, tastes the metal, feels the fire lick over her skin and smells the decay.

Her mind is forced aloft before it advances into the unknown – balance maintained, the next day queued for preparation.


End file.
